


Under the Covers

by FireFleshAndBlood



Category: Tintin - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Oral Sex, Somnophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-17
Updated: 2013-05-17
Packaged: 2017-12-12 04:09:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/807062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FireFleshAndBlood/pseuds/FireFleshAndBlood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone had secrets, even great adventurers. What Tintin held in his heart no one would ever know about. What he wanted more than anything else in the world, he wouldn't dare speak.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Under the Covers

**Author's Note:**

> For the Tintin kink meme. The request was for oral sex, I got a bit creative in how that was accomplished. Somnophilia, dubious consent (turns into full consent), oral sex. Originally posted on dreamwidth only, now archived here.
> 
> Reach me on [dreamwidth.](http://firefleshandblood.dreamwidth.org/)

 

Under the Covers

 

Everyone had secrets, even great adventurers. What Tintin held in his heart no one would ever know about. What he wanted more than anything else in the world, he wouldn't dare speak. Perhaps even by keeping it a secret he was doing himself a disservice. But he couldn't let it out at least not in a way that would benefit anyone, least of all himself.

 

It was hot under the blankets. Tintin carefully felt around in the dark. A warm hairy leg on the left, and another splayed a bit further on the right. When he gently touched one, Tintin could hear an unintelligible murmur. It was dangerous in a way that made Tintin's breath catch and heart quicken. He'd wanted to do this for so long but he just hadn't been sure enough to ask.

 

A deep exhale and all his nerves gathered. He could feel the pulse of blood that mirrored the beat of his own heart when he rested his head against the Captain's thigh. He could smell the Captain's sex through the thin, striped shorts he had worn to bed.

 

This was why he had kept his silence, until the opportunity presented itself in the form of a mummy's stolen head and another great adventure on the seas.

 

“Blistering barnacles,” the captain had groused, “It's so hot I could fry an egg on the floor!”

 

They had been getting ready for bed. The ship had been booked solid, they had to share a room with only one double bed. The Captain had been flustered over their arrangements, and Tintin had hoped that he wasn't making up the reasons why.

 

“It is a bit warm,” Tintin had said, “We must be by the boiler. I suppose that's what we get for booking so late.”

 

His own shirt went over his head; he had felt the Captain's eyes on him, on his sides, the nape of his back. He had glanced at the Captain and noticed him looking away, pulling his own undershirt over his head. Then it had been Tintin who was not to get caught staring.

 

 _Don't look too much_ , he had counseled himself, _no matter how much you want to._

 

“Coach class,” the Captain snarled, “I hope the raisin head of a long dead Pharaoh is worth the trouble.”

 

“I'm sure the curator of London's antiquities would appreciate the comparison,” Tintin jovially replied.

 

And when they had dressed for bed, _oh_. Those lovely striped blue shorts over the Captain's strong, thick legs and only a scant white undershirt on the rest of him.

 

“I'll never get to sleep in this confounded heat,” the Captain complained, “not without a night cap!”

 

Tintin had laid down on his side, his t-shirt bunching up his waist. His skin was glistening in the dim light from sweat. He was sure he felt the Captain's eyes on him.

 

“Don't drink too much,” Tintin had chided, “We have to be up early in the morning.”

 

“Of course, lad, of course,” he had said.

 

Tintin had only to wait, the alcohol would do its work.

 

It seemed like ages laying side by side in bed together, until the Captain had finally fallen asleep. Only after he had assured himself that the Captain's bed time drink had put him into a deep enough slumber, did he crawl under the covers.

 

And that was how he had ended up half suffocated under the sheets but so terribly excited by the prospect. Tintin knew that what he was doing was technically wrong, he knew with every fibre in his being that it was naughty and bad.

 

But not the act itself, that was quite benign in the grand list of erotic things people could do to one another. It was the matter of consent, it hadn't sat well with him which was why perhaps, he had waited until the very end of his patience to even think about trying it.

 

And now he couldn't stop - there was nothing in the world that could stop him, morals to the wind. He was so close to getting what he wanted, this one dreadful, selfish thing. If he had to sacrifice his decency to achieve it, so be it. Because certainly he couldn't sacrifice their friendship...

 

He breathed in deeply, the heavy covers and heat underneath of them was wonderfully stifling. His face was pressed up against the Captain's sex, he could feel the outline of his cock against his own nose. The smell was heady, masculine, utterly divine. But he wanted more, he wanted to taste it.

 

This was the part that would have to be done carefully, using all of Tintin's carefully honed sleuthing skills. He slowly peeled back the delightful shorts; this was no small feat as they were tighter around the Captain's middle and he had to do so gently to be sure the Captain didn't wake up.

 

He could do this thing, he could give his Captain the most wonderful dream. But absolutely, Tintin had decided, he couldn't let the Captain wake up and realise what he had done.

 

Inch by inch, it was gloriously exposed. The part of the Captain that had been in Tintin's late night fantasies for an age. He wished that it weren't so dark under the covers and he could see, instead he pressed his cheek ever so gently to the warm, thick length. He could feel it as he brushed his cheek against it slowly, how long it was, how soft skinned and swollen from sleep.

 

An experimental action; he licked it with his tongue, lightly. The Captain never stirred, Tintin's confidence grew.

 

He wriggled himself around slowly so that he could begin engulfing the tip with his mouth. The first moment he felt the head slide past his lips, his body jolted from the pleasure. He was hard under his shorts, desperately hard. After a re-arrangement his cock was firmly tucked between his own warm thighs. It would stave off his desperate need and let him enjoy it longer.

 

It also had the benefit of freeing his hands. He could touch the base with the tips of his fingers as he pulled the Captain's manhood deeper into his mouth. It felt so big pushing out his cheeks, tasted so good against his tongue. It was tricky at first, Tintin had no practical experience but he had read a great deal and had picked up the basics. Being a fast learner had its advantages.

 

The Captain's cock was hardening in his mouth and Tintin had to back up quite a bit, nearly gagging. It was a stunningly arousing event, feeling the tip so far back in his throat. He wished very much that he could feel the Captain's big hands on his head, forcing him back onto it.

 

“ _Not getting off that easy, lad,”_ he imagined him saying playfully, _“Once you've started something, it's only fair to finish.”_

 

Instead he squeezed his thighs tighter at the thought.

 

With his hands helping he managed to sink even deeper down onto the Captain's cock, until his eyes began to water and he had to pull back. But each time he went a little deeper, until the tip was against the very back of his throat and he could feel the warmth of the Captain's balls brushing against his chin.

 

The whole length was in his mouth, he could taste the saltiness from the back of his throat forward. He had to breathe through his nose. He had to swallow and wasn't quite sure how to manage it but he did, and it caused the Captain's thighs to spasm.

 

It made him panic for an instant and he didn't dare move until the Captain's breaths were deep and even again.

 

 _Don't be a coward_ , Tintin chided himself, _the Captain wouldn't wake up now after all that whiskey. And he's going to move a bit, especially when he comes._

 

The temptation of tasting the Captain's cum urged him onwards, it was something he had wanted to try for a very long time.

 

But it was difficult under the covers. Slowly and with great care, Tintin moved the heavy sheet off of his head. He could see the outling of the Captain's body in the darkness, the light of the moon falling in from the open porthole of their room. His strong jaw, black beard and his sleeping face with his mouth open. All of these things Tintin loved about him. He supposed that might excuse his little trick, that he was doing it out of a desperate sort of affection.

 

There wasn't any time to lose heart over guilty thoughts, Tintin pulled his mouth up then sank down. A rhythm was born, though it was admittedly sloppy. It was challenging keeping his teeth behind his lips while moving so quickly but it felt so good. He had soaked his shorts with clear fluid, this thighs slippery and wet as his own cock twitched every time he felt the Captain's cock touch the back of his throat.

 

The taste, the smell it was getting stronger. Tintin dared to use one of his hands at the base of the Captain's cock to give him leverage. With his other hand firmly on the bed, he could take the whole length while he moved with relative ease.

 

The Captain was making the most wonderful sounds but Tintin didn't dare look at him, as though somehow he could keep the moment as it was, without ever having to imagine he would be caught. The Captain's thighs were tensing, Tintin had read enough and felt enough on his own to know the signs.

 

Almost there. _Ah_ , there it was. He sank all the way down and felt it through his whole body when the Captain's pelvis arched up and the hot fluid began to fill his mouth.

 

Tintin almost choked but he had the mind to start swallowing before it became overwhelming. There was so much and it was so strong, powerfully musky, thick and salty. He wasn't sure if he would like it, really, even after all the research but he did after the initial shock. And it was pouring into him, he was taking it in him – the Captain's seed.

 

He kept swallowing until the twitching had ceased, and then remained breathlessly still. He heard a sleep dulled murmur come from the Captain. After a few moments, Tintin dared to slowly raise his head.

 

More of it dripped from his lips and he had to catch it with his hands. The Captain had come so much, it was stunning.

 

Tintin closed his eyes for a moment, he was so hard. He just wanted to touch himself and relive the experience already, only moments after he had finished. He licked his lips and panted slightly, putting his hand down the front of his shorts. His hand was already wet with the Captain's sperm. He'd only need a minute, then he'd go back to sleep as if nothing had ever happened...

 

“Naughty boy,” the slurred grumble caught him by surprise.

 

Not quite as surprising as the calloused hands that grabbed his wrists and flung him hard against the pillows.

 

“Captain!” Tintin said, a glaring blush reddened his cheeks, “I'm sor- I-”

 

Mouth to mouth, he could feel the scratch of the beard and taste the whiskey and tobacco on the Captain's tongue. He'd slipped it in his mouth, the wily old sea dog, and opened Tintin's own with a demanding kiss.

 

Tintin's wrists were held down, his face was burning a little bit from shame but a lot more from excitement. How he must have looked to the Captain; all flushed and reeking of sex after having spent an inordinate amount of time giving a sleeping man a blowjob. Not to mention his shorts, which were probably tented out in the most awkward way.

 

“Tomorrow we can talk about it, lad,” the Captain said against his mouth, “But for now, I'd rather finish what we started.”

 

“Yes,” Tintin said breathlessly, “Talk. Tomorrow.”

 

The Captain didn't begrudge him his dubious pleasure, that was important. But more important than that was the feeling of a much heavier man pinning him down, their groins nearly touching.

 

“Randy, aren't you?” the Captain whispered in his ear, “So am I.”

 

Tintin couldn't believe it, he could feel it growing against him. How was he able to...?

 

“I may be an old soak,” the Captain said, “But I'm also a randy old bugger.”

 

Tintin had never heard him swear like that in his ear before, and it made his stomach flip flop.

 

“Please,” Tintin whispered back, his mouth near the shell of the Captain's ear, “Do anything you like. _Anything._ ”

 

Oh yes, he could tell what a kiss like that meant. It was going to be a wild night.  


End file.
